


Always

by ThatwasJustaDream



Series: September Bingo Ficlets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Content Dean, Future Fic, M/M, Major Character Death (referenced only), Pining Castiel, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: Dean asks a favor of Castiel - and finds he really didn't need to at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written to a prompt in the September Bingo on the 1_Million_Words comm. Titles are the prompts.

“Cas…..”

“Yes, Dean?”

They were sitting on the patio Sam and Dean had built a few yards from the far side of the bunker, back when it became obvious they’d all be living there for some time. A simple, wide wood platform with rails, three lawn chairs and a porch swing- a place to sit when they had a minute and it was nice out.

Castiel had forgotten how fast the wood had weathered in the wind that always seemed to blow, there. And how very young Dean had still looked, then.

“Will you remember me? I mean… assuming you keep your wings and your grace and I kick the bucket before you, which, let’s face it is pretty damn likely how this scenario plays out. I know you will for a while, but after that…maybe you could set a reminder in that clockwork angel brain of yours…”

“ _Remember_ you?” Castiel heard how it came out of his mouth – a wistful note of ‘wouldn’t be lovely if it were that simple?’ running through the two words.

“I know it’s asking a lot,” Dean reached for the beer he’d set on the side table, keeping his other arm around Cas’ shoulder as he did. “But I’ve heard it said you don’t really die for good ‘til the last time someone says your name, so… I just wondered. If you could think of me and say my name now and again?”

“Dean… I've lived for millennia. If I'm fortunate, I'll have a few more of them to exist in. Please understand that in all of those thousands of years..."

"Never mind. I know you’ll be busy working,” Dean took a long pull on the beer, shrugging. “Forget I even asked, okay?"

"Let me finish. What I was saying is that in all those thousands of years …you’ll be in my heart and very much on my mind. Not only sometimes. Always."

“Jesus….. Cas. I’m… sorry. I didn’t think it would be like that for you.”

“You’re human. Humans move on even when they love deeply. I was created specifically for devotion - and that is not your fault, either.”

“Okay, now I’m feeling like maybe we should shoot for the opposite. Is there anything I can do, so when it comes…you don’t hurt? Can I ‘White Fang’ you or something? Give you ‘survival of the fittest’ instincts to lean into?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve done that already, Dean. But … you could consider letting me come with you. When you pass away for good… I could guide you to Heaven or Purgatory or… I’m guessing you’d prefer Oblivion. I’d be very happy to go into Oblivion with you.”

“No way. All the good you could do here? The people you could help? I can’t...”

“I know you can’t.”

Castiel cut him off as much to spare him as anything: Dean was getting that vaguely flustered, embarrassed look that any display of emotion brought on. He'd never really gotten over that, ever.

“I'd say I’m glad we had this little talk, buddy, but… I kinda feel like crap, now.”

“Don’t. Please. Let’s just watch the sunset.”

Dean drank his beer. Castiel held his hand – and didn’t tell him how he was cheating the universe, being with him.

He longed to, some times more than others: To tell Dean how much had changed in the last two hundred years: That planes had no pilots and cars no drivers, though he was sure Dean wouldn’t like that fact at all. How global warming was under control but the threat of war, monsters and demon eruptions kept all of the good people as busy as ever – especially Sam’s descendants and Crowley’s less savory spawn, too.

“It’s a hell of a sky show tonight.”

“It really is.”

The sky was blazing red and pink with puffs of white clouds here and there. A perfect summer evening. There are only so many of these left that Castiel can return to: A shrinking number of uneventful moments in the space-time continuum where they’ve already met and loved and nothing too pressing is going on. Where he and Dean can watch a sunrise or have breakfast or drive a highway together with Sam, headed for a job. 

Castiel hoards them like diamonds: Only drops in and spends one of them when the ache builds so high it takes over his whole vessel and leaves him pining. 

He’ll be able to survive on this evening’s memories for a while.

“I wish you’d consider it…” Castiel says. “Letting me go with you.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, but he pulls him in closer and…he can hope. That perhaps it will go differently, the day Dean died. 

Then Castiel can cease to be – and maybe he’ll never run out of diamonds to spend, after all.


End file.
